


John Solves a Mystery

by SurelyMeretricious



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pining, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 15:42:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1749893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SurelyMeretricious/pseuds/SurelyMeretricious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John has a mystery of his own to solve when Sherlock begins online dating.  Or does he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	John Solves a Mystery

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Scrabbler](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Scrabbler), [chemistryofcrime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chemistryofcrime/gifts).



> This is a (long overdue) prompt I had for Scrabbler.  
> Much thanks as always to Chucksauce for being the most amazing Beta.  
> :)  
> I hope you guys like it!

It had only been a few minutes, but already the incessant clicking of the keys as Sherlock’s nimble fingers danced provocatively across his keyboard was driving John Watson fucking crazy. It was the fourth day in a row that Sherlock had done this. And John knew from the previous days that he was going to be at it for _hours_.

John had periodically checked Sherlock’s blog, but there had been no updates there. So he was climbing the walls trying to determine just what Sherlock was doing. It certainly didn’t ease his curiosity when Sherlock would smile a little or bite his lower lip in concentration.

Worse than this, John was manic trying to figure out just why the hell he cared. Sherlock was always doing some daft thing or another and usually John just made sure he wasn’t bleeding or hurting someone else before turning back to his paper with a sigh.

But this- the "secret laptop project", as John referred to it in his head, was going to be the death of him if he didn’t get information and soon.

"Tea?" John asked.

"Mmm," Sherlock replied before actually giggling a little to himself.

John sat a moment, unsettled by the sound that had come out of Sherlock's mouth, before peeling himself slowly away from his chair and shambling into the kitchen. While he waited for the water to heat, John casually leaned against the wall and looked at Sherlock, who was still lost in whatever it was he was doing.

"So..." John began awkwardly.

When Sherlock didn't answer, John cleared his throat loudly. With a long-suffering sigh, Sherlock tore his eyes from his screen and glared at John.

"What, John? You are being disruptive. Kindly shut up or leave."

John opened his mouth to protest but shut it quickly. If Sherlock was going to this length to push him away then it must be something juicy. John decided that he would bide his time a little while longer.

After a long period of silence, Sherlock returned to his typing with a renewed fervor. John decided to spend the rest of the evening pacing around the flat, mostly trying to sneak behind Sherlock and see what he was up to. But Sherlock, being Sherlock, caught on before John finished a whole circuit of the room, and shut his laptop with a defiant click. Then he stood wordlessly and carried it to his room, stomping all the way.

John smiled a little to himself, positive Sherlock was hiding something, before going about his day in tense peace and quiet.

  


The next day John had clinic duty, which was usually his mini-vacation away from Sherlock when he was being difficult. Today, however, John lamented wasting time elsewhere when all he really wanted to do was solve his very own mystery.

"Alright, Beth?" he said cordially to the receptionist. She smiled broadly and returned his greeting with a little more enthusiasm than usual. John pushed this observation aside, as Beth was fairly young and often seemed to be more excited than most would be about the arduous task of filing or answering the phones.

Between patients, John sat at his desk and rubbed his eyes, trying to think up more and more ludicrous scenarios that would involve Sherlock typing so much and in such an upbeat manner. Sherlock Holmes writing a musical rendition of his life was one of the more absurd ideas. His imagination failing him again and again, John gave up at the end of the day, finishing with the last patient and heading home.

When he arrived at 221B, exhausted, it seemed like the day had just begun for his eccentric flatmate. He could hear Sherlock bustling about excitedly upstairs.

John heaved a sigh before perking up. If Sherlock was scrambling around he must be getting ready to go out on a case which meant...

John climbed the stairs two at a time, and sure enough, Sherlock's laptop had been left out on the table. John knew better than to go directly to it. Instead he swallowed his anticipation just enough so that it remained lodged in his throat, and set his coat aside before moving slowly into the kitchen. He loudly made tea, knowing Sherlock would expect this routine.

"John!" Sherlock called out in a clear voice from his bedroom.

"Mmhmm?" John hummed, though not loud enough.

"John!" Sherlock tried again. "I'm going out tonight so I won't be needing dinner."

"On a case, are you? Are you sure you won't want to eat later?" John smiled to himself, knowing that his question was rhetorical.

"No. I won't be needing dinner because I am going out for dinner."

John stopped what he was doing and almost dropped the spoon he held. "You what now?" he sputtered. John carefully set aside the mug he had been holding, needing the reassuring feel of his hands resting against his waist.

Sherlock paused on his way through the kitchen, stopping to tug his shirt, and John had another shock to his system.

"And what the bloody hell are you wearing!"

Sherlock shrugged as if the answer were obvious and smoothed out his button-up shirt and cream jumper. John's eyes bulged as he took in the jeans and the shorter coat; he nearly screamed when he saw the brown loafers. Sherlock had even combed his hair a bit tamer, which John humourously thought made him look like a student. John couldn't help but giggle in disbelief, clamping a hand over his mouth too late.

"Honestly, John," Sherlock sighed with a testy smile. "If you keep that face up it will freeze that way and I will have to cancel my date to take you to hospital."

" _Date?_ "

"Yes, John. My date. When two people who are interested in each other go out and spend time together."

"Don't you dare throw my words back at me in that tone," John said with mock severity.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and crossed his arms before smiling mischievously and moving forward.

Sherlock moved close so that he was crowding John's space. John could smell his own cologne wafting off of Sherlock's skin but before he could question that, Sherlock was reaching an arm around him.

John's face heated instantly and for a moment he thought Sherlock was leaning in to pull him close and kiss him, like in the Regency films John secretly watched late in the night but would never admit to.

When Sherlock spoke again it was in a calm and placating voice, sobering John on a delightful shudder. "I may not be back until late so don't wait up for me."

John licked his lips. Then Sherlock's words sunk in and his brow furrowed, annoyance colouring his reply. "I'm not your mother. What are you going to be doing?"

Sherlock smiled, ignoring the contradictory statements and let his gaze rake over John slowly. "Oh, just this and that."

John bristled and spread his chest wide, pressing against Sherlock in a effort to move past him and get between his flatmate and the door. After a moment's struggle, Sherlock let him pass.

John spun on his heel, realising that he needed space away from Sherlock for the allowance of rational thought, and not wanting to think about that.

Before he could speak, Sherlock interrupted him, in a placated manner. "John, wait."

John paused, pressing his lips together.

"I need to borrow some money."

Before John could respond, Sherlock was on him again, reaching into his back pocket and slowly pulling out his billfold. John stiffened, his breath caught in his throat. Sherlock pulled his hand away and rifled through the small leather wallet, pulling out all the bills before tossing the wallet carelessly onto the kitchen table and spinning away.

"Toodles!" Sherlock called out as he galloped down the stairs and out of the flat.

John pressed a hand to his chest and was alarmed by the rapidity of his heartbeat and breathing. He felt hot and dizzy and only wanted to sit down and try to determine what exactly had just happened. After a few minutes, his mind calmed enough to remember the laptop sitting open and inviting in the next room, abandoned just as John had been.

John peeked around the flat, even though he knew he was alone, before tiptoeing over and snatching up the device. He climbed the stairs to his room for extra privacy in case Sherlock decided to return early. John hoped he would return early. Part of him felt a little sick because he kept hoping that the date would be a terrible disaster and Sherlock would get a taste of his own medicine. For as many dates as Sherlock had ruined for him, John felt a sudden overwhelming sense of duty to show Sherlock what it felt like.

Pausing his malicious thoughts, John contemplated uselessly what Sherlock's password could be. When he tapped the power key, however, he was met not with a lockscreen, but with open access. Sherlock had even left some chat tabs open. This made John pause, second-guessing himself. If this really were about something personal, Sherlock would not have just left his laptop so open. It was almost as if he left it for John.

John mumbled reassurances to himself. "See? It's just a case. Business as usual. He just didn't want me to get bored while he was out."

John sat for a moment with his hand hovering uncertainly over the mousepad. What if Sherlock really had just forgotten about his laptop in his haste to leave. John felt bile in his throat at the idea of his excitement over a date. If this was real then he was invading Sherlock's privacy. John thought about the fact that he had absolutely no privacy himself where Sherlock was concerned. This eased his mind considerably. He further convinced himself that he was doing the right thing because he was worried about Sherlock's safety; The person could be wooing him to get him out of the flat in an attempt to murder him.

"Not the first time someone's wanted to kill him," John muttered, taking a deep breath and opening the chat.

As he scanned through the messages he became less and less sure that it was Sherlock's laptop he was looking at. He even began to wonder if he had entered the completely wrong flat and been chatting with Sherlock's doppleganger.

The messages between BeeLover81 and LizzyontheDanceFloor were appallingly romantic and... _normal_.

John kept reading. With each word he felt more and more like he was having an out-of-body experience. When he reached the break where they had solidified details for meeting in person, John let out a heavy sigh and clicked the laptop shut.

Sherlock was just going on a date with an actual normal person whom he was interested in. John heard Sherlock entering their sitting room downstairs and scrabbled for his mobile. The display lit up, making it much later in the evening than John thought it had been.

John cursed to himself in the LED dimness of his room. "Shit. Shit. Bollocks. He's going to see that the bloody laptop is missing. Shit."

In a panic, John thrust the laptop under his bed. He was just about sitting normally on the mattress again when Sherlock burst into his room, wearing the enormous grin of an adolescent. Sherlock plopped down on John's bed and wriggled like he was determined to make a snow angel out of the comforter. John was almost appalled by the gesture, like he had never really met the man before. The doppleganger idea was beginning to sound pretty good.

"Now I understand why you do that so often," Sherlock said.

John swallowed hard and tried to seem pleasantly curious. "Oh?"

Sherlock looked over at him with such warmth in his eyes that John's chest constricted. The detective rolled his lanky body onto its side and propped his head up on one fist. With his other hand, he traced circles into the duvet as he beamed.

"John, it was wonderful. She was wonderful. So excited about everything. I feel so...buoyant!"

John looked around the room for something to knock out the imposter with, sympathetically feeling like someone had hit him over the head. He didn't know how else to process the words that were coming out of Sherlock's mouth.

"Yeah, well, first dates can be really exciting," he said carefully. "Are you going to see her again, you think?"

"Oh, definitely. Tomorrow in fact." Sherlock sighed like some animated cherub and practically floated off of John's bed and out of the room. When he rounded the corner, out of sight, his face fell into a mischievous smirk.

John didn't sleep a wink that night.

The next day, John was actually glad to be back at the clinic. Anything to get away from the stranger impersonating his friend. The Sherlock he knew would never sing in the shower, although he did have a lovely voice. Sherlock would never hum through breakfast, or skip around the room. His Sherlock would have noticed the still-missing laptop.

John contemplated blogging about mourning the loss of his friend to bodysnatchers, but decided most of his audience might not get the joke. Throughout his day, he pulled up his blog, only to stare at it for a minute before clearing his throat and closing the tab. He had more important, though less interesting, things to do. Hours later, John realised that he had, in his trancelike fugue, forgotten his lunch at home. Just as he was passing the front desk on his way out for lunch, he saw a familiar figure hovering over the desk.

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock turned at the sound of his name and John looked him over for visible wounds. "Are you okay? What do you need?" John could hear the desperation in his voice.

Sherlock smiled in response and John's worry was replaced by the fluttering of nonexistant wings in his stomach.

John swallowed and looked up into Sherlock's grinning face. "Were you looking for me? You could have texted." John looked away, trying to hide his delight that Sherlock hadn't texted for once.

"Please, John. Stop worrying, I'm fine. I'm actually here to see someone else."

"What?" John croaked. Before he could continue, he was interrupted by a voice from behind the desk.

"Hiya, Doctor Watson!"

John blinked slowly, his mind still processing what the evidence presented before him suggested.

John looked between Sherlock and Beth for an explanation, but Sherlock was already grinning at her. His upper body was leaned over the counter, his weight on one leg with the other heel in the air rolling back and forth casually. With a soft sigh, Sherlock said, "I thought I'd surprise Beth here and take her to lunch."

Beth hopped out of her chair excitedly and ran around the desk. Sherlock met her with an outreached arm, his smile never waning. Without hesitation, she snuggled against Sherlock's side.

Suddenly, John felt very interested in the fluorescent lights around the room. They really needed to provide better lighting in their waiting area, he determined.

Sherlock cleared his throat, snapping John out of his reverie a moment before loudly suggesting that John come along with them, since he was obviously on his way out to lunch as well. John didn't know what to do with his hands for some reason. He ran one palm over his chest in a soothing manner while the other fist clenched and unclenched. His mouth opened to decline the offer but no sound came out. While waiting patiently for an answer, Sherlock rubbed the tip of his nose against Beth's and grinned.

John felt sick to his stomach at just the thought of trying to eat while watching that and grimaced.

He forced a smile and said, "No, that's alright. You don't want me hovering around and spoiling the mood." Sherlock was back to ignoring him, so John spoke louder as he continued, "And you know, I actually left something on my desk so why don't you two go ahead." With that he rushed back to the safety of his office, where he could lock the door and try not to think about Sherlock and Beth. Sherlock on a date with Beth. Sherlock kissing Beth.

John punched his thigh with a clenched fist and tried to figure out why exactly this image was so repulsive to him. They were mates, right? Normal mates would be fine with their friends going out on dates.

His pulse accelerated and his cheeks flushed. Thinking about Sherlock kissing had made his stomach flip over. His palms began to sweat as John tried to fight the realisation that he might actually be _jealous_.

When John was certain they had gone, he tore out of his office and past the startled Sarah. Quickly, he mumbled something about feeling too sick and needing to go home before running out of the building. He hopped in the first cab and watched his legs jump anxiously the whole way home. When he arrived, he remembered that Sherlock had taken all of the cash from his wallet the night before. Luckily Mrs. Hudson was there to spot him the money before the cabbie could threaten to take his legs off.

John shamefully ran past Mrs. Hudson, offering the same excuses he had given Sarah before locking himself in his room. He needed to get his thoughts under control.

After all, there was no possible way that he was in love with Sherlock Holmes.

It simply wasn't feasible. Was it?

John tried to think about Sherlock strictly in a platonic sense but his mind was soaked through with Sherlock's nearness the night before when he had snatched John's wallet. His chest constricted as he realised he had always admired Sherlock aesthetically. But it was more than that. Sherlock was absolutely a marvel. Just the thought of Sherlock's smell and Sherlock's smiles when their bodies had been pressed together had John wilted in defeat. Clearly there was an attraction that he had previously been ignoring.

Now John just had to figure out what to do about it.

The first thing would be Beth. John pulled an exaggerated frown and began to pace the floor. He knew that she wasn't the one for Sherlock. John knew him better than anyone. He knew what Sherlock wanted and what he needed.

John wanted to be what Sherlock needed. What Sherlock desired.

When the door downstairs opened, John was forced to make a quick decision. He needed to throw his hat into the ring before it was too late, and things between Beth and Sherlock got serious.

"Sherlock?" John called as he clopped down the stairs towards their shared area.

"Are you alright, John? Mrs. Hudson was going on about you being ill or some drivel. I deleted it."

Sherlock sounded like his old self again and appeared to be alone, allowing John to breathe. He closed his eyes and smiled softly. As he walked into the kitchen Sherlock disappeared into his bedroom.

John decided to follow him. He had an uncontrollable urge to be near Sherlock, to watch Sherlock read his recent revelation all over his brow, in his stance, on the softness around his eyes and mouth. John hoped Sherlock's face would echo the sentiment, though he knew it was a long shot.

Swinging the door open, John caught sight of Sherlock in a state of mid-deshevelment. He had pulled the jumper over his head, ruffling his hair and lifting the button-up so his lower abdomen was exposed. John could also clearly see that his jeans were unzipped and just barely hanging onto the detective's thin hips.

John thought he had never looked more beautiful.

Licking his lips, John cleared his throat, suddenly shy.

"John?" Sherlock asked quietly.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, John blurted, "I don't think Beth is the right one for you. I think you deserve much better. I don't care how rude that makes me seem."

The corner of Sherlock's mouth hitched upwards before he turned slowly away from John and began unbottoning his shirt. "Oh?" he said with nonchalance.

John, taking strength from Sherlock's calm demeanor, continued. "Yes. You are the most amazing person I have ever met. You deserve someone who challenges you. Someone who cherishes you. Just as you are. Full stop."

At this, Sherlock turned back around to face him, his face somber. In a low voice, he spoke carefully. "You sound as if you have a specific example in mind."

"I do."

There was a long pause as Sherlock's hands fell away from his undone shirt. Smirking, he prompted, "Care to share with the class?"

John took another deep breath and shut his eyes tightly. This was the last chance to turn back. He could suggest someone funny, like Anderson, and walk away laughing. Life could go back to normal. Or he could take a chance and hope it worked in his favor.

"Me."

Seconds seemed to stretch into hours but then John was crossing the room in long strides and kissing Sherlock. After a pause, Sherlock was kissing him back, hands clasped around John's face. John's own hands slipped under Sherlock's shirt and was roughly pushing it away from untouched skin. Sherlock helped him remove the shirt without breaking the kiss and John felt delirious.

Then Sherlock pulled away and pressed his forehead against John's. "Are you sure?" he asked in a pained voice.

"Yes, you git." John smiled. "Now hurry up and kiss me again."

Sherlock obliged and soon they were on the bed, John removing the layers of clothing between them. John couldn't help but grin broadly when all that was left was Sherlock's dark blue pants.

  


When it was over, they lay tangled in each other's limbs with a light sheen of sweat covering every expanse of their skin. John matched his breathing to Sherlock's and sighed contentedly. Sherlock was lazily stroking John's upper arm as John snuggled closer into Sherlock's side, one arm curled around his flatmate.

Sherlock pulled his head away a little to plant a kiss against John's temple before asking, "So what does this mean?"

John opened his eyes and looked up at Sherlock without removing his head fully from Sherlock's chest. "Well that depends, I suppose. I want you, Sherlock. I want to be with you. But do you..."

Without hesitation Sherlock said, "Of course I want you, John. I have been sitting around twiddling my thumbs since we met, waiting for you to catch up."

At this, John twisted, his chin colliding sharply with Sherlock's chest. "What do you mean?"

Sherlock propped himself up on his elbows and grinned wickedly. "It means, John, that I have loved you since the moment I met you. You have been madly in love with me as well, but apparently were not smart enough to figure that out."

"But what about the chats and dating Beth and all?"

"That?" Sherlock brushed the comment aside as if he were repulsed by it. "That was something totally different. She was a case. Identity fraud. I made her pay for the lunch date and she used another person's credit card. Easy."

John sat there without saying anything.

Sherlock watched him carefully. "Although, I suppose it did work to help you to realise that you were jealous. That you love me."

"You!" John balked. "You made me think it was serious!"

"Not on purpose!" Sherlock lied.

Then John jumped on top of Sherlock and began tickling him with furious jabs. Between breaths he shouted, "You- are such- a- complete- dickhead!"

Sherlock whooped in defense until John relented, leaning on arms placed on either side of Sherlock's body.

When Sherlock had mostly caught his breath he said, "Yes, but you love me."

John studied Sherlock's gorgeous face and grinned. "That I do."

Then John kissed him deeply and settled in. He had Sherlock and he was happy. And at last, this grand mystery had been solved. He would be the one to love and be loved by Sherlock forever.


End file.
